


The Most Inept

by shocked_into_shame



Category: The Smiths
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Pining, Wedding date, Will become porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-14 08:08:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3403169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shocked_into_shame/pseuds/shocked_into_shame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moz is sick of disappointing his mother, who so desperately longs to see him in love. Johnny agrees to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm actually embarking on a multi-chapter fic journey. I don't usually write longer, multi-chapter fics because I'll just warn you- I almost never finish them. Ever. It's really a problem. Regardless, I had this idea and it has really been bothering me, calling me to write it. So I decided I'm going to try (for the first time in about 4 years) to write a multi-chaptered fic. Who knows what will happen? I've got a story planned in detail, but whether or not I actually follow through with said story is another thing entirely. Anyways, I have a couple of things about this story:  
>  -It's set in January, 1983.   
>  -Angie doesn't exist. Sorry.   
>  -Everything else is pretty much the same as real life... Well. Other than the gay, of course.   
>  -Will this turn into smut? Certainly. Just so ya'll know before you embark on this journey with me.

 

Morrissey sighs and takes a sip of his tea, still slightly too hot. It burns the roof of his mouth, which is absolutely _great_. He's having a _fantastic_ day. It started with him waking up -alone, as usual,- and finding that his cat had vomited in his bed. Wonderful. Not to mention, his record player would not work this morning, and now he's gone and burnt his mouth on some tea. This is just great.

He's startled out of his self-deprecating inner monologue _Why me? I'm a good person_ by the sound of his telephone letting out a loud, deafening screech. As he gets up to get the phone, he fleetingly wonders if there is a way to change the ring. Maybe to something a little less blood-curdling.

“Hello,” he grumbles, not amused at whomever interrupted his inner monologue. Until, of course, a kind, warm voice sounds over the receiver.

“Steven, how are you, love?” It's Moz's mum on the phone, and he feels the tenseness melt out of him when hears her loving voice. Well, that's a relief.

“Hi, mum. I'm feeling a little... well, awful, but that's alright. How are you?”

“Steven, remember that your awful isn't nearly as bad as everyone else's. I'm fine... worried about you, as always, but what do you expect?”

Moz sighs and shifts the phone to the other hand, leaning up against the wall. “Why are you worried?” He wants desperately to add on a “this time” to the end of that statement but quickly decides that is a bit too mean. He loves his mother, really, and he understands that, when she expresses worry, it's just her doing her job.

“Well, I mean...” Betty trails off. There's a pregnant pause between them before, “Don't get mad at me, now. But when are you going to find someone special?”

“Mum--”

“No, wait, Steven. Let me finish.” There's a sense of finality in her voice, and Moz decides to hold his tongue. There aren't many who can make him do that, keep in what he wants to say, but his mother is certainly one of those few. “I know that you aren't interested in the whole 'dating' thing. I know you've never been one to chase around girls, and really, that's fine. But you are my son, and you are 23 now, and you _deserve_ to find someone. You act as though you don't want it, you don't want companionship. But we all need a little love, Steven.”

“Well, I've got love from you, and Aunt Mary and ---”

“That's not what I meant and you know it. I mean... when is the last time you've _been_ with someone?”

Moz rolls his eyes, “ _Mum...”_

“No really. One adult to another. When is the last time?”

“I don't know, um...” Moz thinks back to the last time he had sex. It was with a girl, when he was... 17 or so. “Um, about 6 years ago?”

“6 _years_? Steven, doesn't that bother you?”

“No, I don't really _want_ to be with anyone. I don't know. I mean, with the band now, I'm happier than ever. And I don't even really enjoy that sort of thing, anyway...”

“Has it ever occurred to you that you might just enjoy that sort of thing, with the right person? I'd just like, at least once, for you to bring a person home. That's all.”

A... _person?_ What does that mean? Moz can't quite get over the fact that his mother didn't say “bring a girl home”. “Bring a person home”? Does that mean what he thinks it means? Is she implying something here? His skin breaks out in goosebumps, and, Jesus, when did it get so stiflingly hot in this flat? “Person?” he asks shyly, afraid of the answer he'll get.

His mum laughs. “Steven, I've known you were interested in girls _and_ boys since you were about 6 years old.” Six? Moz tries to remember if even he knew that he was interested in boys too at six years old. Probably not. He doesn't quite know what to say. “Now before you get all depressing on me, I need to remind you that you are my _baby_. I know you don't like to be called that, but that's what you are. You are my son and I love you. I will always love you, no matter what. I promise.”

Tears prickle at Moz's blue eyes. His mother is truly an amazing woman, the one constant in his miserable life. And he's so overwhelmed with emotion, in that moment, crippled by the need to please her. “Well, mum. I've actually got a boyfriend.” The words just tumble out of his mouth, really, out before he can really consider the implications of what he's just said. He certainly does _not_ have a boyfriend, nor does he plan to have one in the near future.

But his mother's excited laugh really says it all. Perhaps this is a lie, but isn't it easier to just let his mother think he is with someone, think he is in a happy relationship? Yes. He doesn't factor in, though, one possibility... That his mother might just want to meet this boyfriend of his.

“Oh, that's so wonderful! Steven, I'm so happy for you... Oh! I wanted this to be a surprise, but your Aunt Mary is flying in a week from now. I want you and Jackie to come over and we can have tea as a family. Do you think your boyfriend might want to come along? It's Sunday the 16th.”

And, for some reason, Moz agrees. He confirms, says his goodbyes, and hangs up the phone in a haze. Oh, God. He's really done it now. A quick glance at the grandfather clock in his sitting room reveals that he has to be at rehearsal in an hour, in preparation for their gig on February the 4th, so he gets ready as quickly as he can, putting the most priority on his hair. His hands shake as he fixes his signature quiff, tremble as he gets into a patterned blouse.

Once he gets to rehearsal, he realizes he is slightly late, the last one to arrive. Johnny laughs at him, good-natured about his antics as always. Andy greets him with a cigarette between his teeth, and Mike gives a wave in his direction. His eyes are slightly off and Moz thinks he's probably high. Oh, well. He doesn't have the energy to say anything about it today.

They begin to rehearse and Moz sings all the right notes, does everything the way it's supposed to be done. Of course, his heart isn't in it, and because only seals perform he doesn't bother to pretend like he is enjoying this. Once it's done, thankfully slightly early, he moves to make a mad dash home, ready to sink into a warm bath and perhaps cry over his miserable existence. Johnny, though, the ever-perceptive Johnny, stops him before he leaves.

“What's wrong, Mozza? Something is bothering you.” Moz just shakes his head. He can't even begin to explain. “Cmon. Let's go out to lunch. You can tell me all about it.” Reluctantly, Morrissey agrees, because Johnny is really just too charming for his own good. The minute they step outside Johnny puts his circular shades on (even in January, Moz muses) and they walk together in silence. It's a quick walk, perhaps made even quicker by their desire to get inside, out of the chilly Manchester weather. Moz can see his breath in the air, but at least he isn't just wearing a t-shirt and jean jacket like his companion.

Once they get to the restaurant they sit down and order their meals. Johnny gets a salad with extra croutons and dressing, and Moz gets a veggie sandwich. Johnny sips his beer and quirks a smile. “So, tell me what's going on.”

Moz sighs and buries his face in his hands. “I lied to my mother.” Johnny gives him a confused expression. “Well, like that it doesn't sound too bad but... She has wanted me to find someone to be with for the longest time. She just wants me to find love, you know? And, um, I sort of told her that I have a boyfriend to make her happy.” Johnny looks like he is holding in a laugh. “ _And_ I agreed to bring him home for tea on Sunday the 16 th.” Johnny is full-out laughing now, unable to hold it in anymore. Of all the crazy quirks Morrissey has, all of the strange things that he's done, this definitely takes the cake. “Johnny, this isn't funny. What am I going to do?”

“Maybe get an actual boyfriend?”

Moz looks down. He's thought of that, but on such short notice? And wouldn't that be wrong, to start dating someone just so you can bring him home to meet the family? Moz voices his concerns.

“Then why don't you...” Johnny's brown eyes suddenly light up with an idea. “I've got it. Just take me.”

“Take _you?_ ”

“Yeah,” the guitarist replies, taking a sip of his drink. “I will pretend to be your boyfriend for the day. No big deal, right? And then a month later you tell them we broke up... Or do you think I won't be good enough?” Now it's a challenge, a dare, almost. Johnny is goading him on. So, he agrees.

On January the 16th, Johnny will become Morrissey's boyfriend.

This is definitely going to work out just fine.

…Maybe.  

 


	2. Chapter 2

January 16th rolls around faster than Morrissey had anticipated. In fact, he's hurled toward the date, each day preceding it passing in a blur, the constant promise of something unpleasant to come making his days seem shorter and shorter. Johnny seems unaffected, cool as always, which is simultaneously unnerving and frustrating for the singer. How could it be that he is so afraid, shaking in his boots, really, while Johnny doesn't seem to care at all about what is to come?

Moz wakes up on that fateful Sunday more tired than he had gone to bed feeling. He doesn't quite know what that means, but he does know that he longs to crawl back into bed and sleep for another 8 hours. He makes tea for himself in silence, not even bothering to turn on his brand-new record player (the previous machine had sadly bitten the dust). He's afraid, afraid to the point where he can't even feel butterflies anymore. No, he feels nothingness in the pit of his stomach, which is worse, somehow. Still, he forces himself through his morning routine, getting dressed as soon as he finishes his breakfast. It doesn't take long to choose an outfit, opting for a gray sweater and black jeans. His eyes are bothering him a bit, slightly scratchy for whatever reason, so he doesn't force himself to wear contacts. Finally, he does his hair, switching off his hair dryer just in time to hear a knock at his door. His stomach plummets, and _there_ are those butterflies he couldn't quite feel earlier.

He opens his door and there's Johnny, smiling genuinely, cigarette in one hand and a small bouquet of flowers in the other. Moz lets him in and they sit together on his couch. He's dressed nicely, of course, white button-up tucked into gray jeans, crisp faux-leather jacket on top. His hair is styled in a quiff, a few strands of hair out and falling on his forehead. A flash of yellow catches Moz's eye.

“Johnny, did you put a blonde streak in your hair?”

Johnny chuckles and takes a drag of his cigarette. “Yeah, did it last night. You like it?” Moz nods and chews at his bottom lip. Johnny looks _really_ good, and Moz can't quite place the reaction he's having to all of this. “Hey, you still nervous?”

“I can't help but be... Johnny, we are going to pretend to be _dating_.”

Johnny shakes his head and takes another puff of his cig. “Yeah, so? We agreed to this weeks ago.”

“What if they can tell we aren't actually dating? What if they ask about how we got together?”

“Then we tell them the true story. That I came to your door and asked you to join my band. We fell in love from there. Simple as that.”

Moz isn't satisfied, but he doesn't even want to bother pressing the subject. Instead, he tries to distract himself, asking with a sly grin, “Are those flowers for me?”

Johnny laughs loudly, shaking his head. “No, they're for your mum. As a thanks for having us over.” Moz's breath escapes him in a rush, because that's probably the nicest thing Johnny could have done in this situation. “Don't look so surprised. I have dated for real before. This is just something you do. I figured your mother would like flowers, her being _your_ mother and all.”

The clock rings out 12 chimes, signaling that it's noon. Johnny and Moz agreed to be there at 12:30, so they decide to make their way to Morrissey's mum's house. They walk in silence, but Morrissey feels like it's altogether too loud, an ever-present roaring in his ears. Before he can even really process it, he's at his mother's door, being enveloped in a tight hug.

“Hi, mum,” he greets, voice warm with affection. He calms down considerably, with his mother's arms wrapped around him.

“How are you, my love?” she asks, pulling away and looking up at her tall son.

“I'm wonderful, now that I'm with you.”

The smile that breaks out on Betty's face is dazzling, but it pales in comparison to the smile she gives when she notices Johnny.

“Hello, Johnny, I didn't expect to see you today. How is your mother?”

“She's wonderful. Thank you for asking.”

“So, Steven,” she asks, returning her gaze to her son. “Where is this boyfriend of yours?” Johnny clears his throat and smiles in reply, charming as ever, and hands her the bouquet of flowers. “These are for you, Ms. Dwyer. Thank you for inviting me to your lovely home.” Recognition comes to Betty's face, and her hand flies up to cover her mouth in shock.

“Steven, you are dating Johnny?”

Moz nods shyly, cheeks reddening. Oh, God. She disapproves. But why does Morrissey care? Johnny isn't his real boyfriend, so it doesn't even matter. Moz looks on in shock as his mother wraps her arms around Johnny tightly. Johnny looks just as surprised as Morrissey feels, but he hugs back, a smile settling on his face.

“I'm so glad. You are such a sweet boy, Johnny. A wonderful fit for my Steven.”

“Thank you, ma'am,” the black-haired boy, replies, almost shyly, if that were at all possible for him.

“Oh, enough of all that 'ma'am' stuff. You just call me Betty, love.”

Johnny nods his head and grins crookedly, handing over the flowers just as Betty seems to realize that this entire exchange is occurring on her porch rather than in her house. She quickly herds the boys inside, taking their coats and seating them at the loveseat in her den.

“Johnny, would you like something to drink? Tea?”

“Mum, I can get us our drinks.” Moz begins to stand up but his mother pushes him back down with her stern gaze.

“No, you are guests in my house. I will get you your tea.”

Moz sits back down and lets out a sigh. Johnny turns and stares at him, an unreadable expression on his face. “Are you okay?” Moz just nods, unable to get a word out. It's unlike him, to not be able to think of anything to say. Normally, when he's around Johnny, words and opinions buzz around in his head and he can't help but let them out. But now he really doesn't have anything to say. It's unnerving.

Suddenly, though, there's a knock at his mother's door, and his mom rushes over to answer it. His sister, Jackie, walks in, looking the same as ever. She shares a quick hug with her mother, then notices Morrissey seated in the den. She runs in and barrels him with an embrace, and he can't help but hug back, as it's been quite a long time since he's last seen her. She pulls away and smiles, before noticing that Johnny is there.

“Johnny Marr? I haven't seen you since you showed up at our house and demanded that I get my brother for you. How are you?”

“I'm doing well, Jackie. How are you?”

Morrissey looks on in silence as Johnny makes comfortable conversation with his mother and sister, who have both seated themselves in the den. It's a relief, really, to see that he gets along so well with the both of them, but something in Jackie's expression is unsettling. When a natural lull in the conversation occurs, Jackie beckons Moz to come to the kitchen with her.

“Trouble in paradise?” she asks slyly, low enough so their mother wont hear.

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, you and Johnny certainly don't act like you're as in love as Mum told me... You are sitting as far apart from each other that that loveseat will allow and you haven't even looked at him once.” Moz thinks that this might just be the adult equivalent of Jackie forcing him to eat dirt when they were children. He scrambles for an excuse, the only one he can muster being that he's just nervous to have their mother meet Johnny for the first time. She doesn't look like she's bought it, but she drops the topic and they return to their seats.

Morrissey purposefully sits much closer to Johnny, practically in his lap. He turns and whispers, “My sister isn't buying that we're together.”

That's when the touchiness starts. Johnny immediately grabs Moz's hand, and holds it for the duration of the afternoon. Johnny turns into a different person before Morrissey's eyes, a possessive person. He sends Moz little smiles ever so often, rubs the back of his hand with his thumb. At one point, he leans his head against Moz's shoulder and leaves it there for a long time. Moz can smell Johnny's cologne and can feel his heartbeat. Even though he knows its an act, knows that nothing Johnny is doing is sincere, it makes Moz's heart flutter in his chest. And they're buying it, Jackie and his mother; they are absolutely loving the show.

Moz feels like absolute shit. Because he's reacting to this, reacting to Johnny being so physically close to him. And when he says goodbye to his mother and sister, parts ways with Johnny, he feels empty and alone. More so than he's ever felt. A taste of being Johnny's “boyfriend” felt amazing, somehow, and now it's gone. Morrissey draws himself a bath and soaks in it for a long time, thinking deeply about his situation. Soon though, he's thinking about Johnny. Thinking about his smile, his laugh, the way he looks while he's deeply engrossed in his guitar- playing, the way he looked that first time they met, the way he is patient and kind when Morrissey is in a mood, the way he takes Moz's lyrics gratefully, as though his words are gifts. The way his hand fit perfectly in Moz's, his head fit perfectly in the juncture between Moz's neck and shoulder. Tears prickle at his blue eyes. It's clear now, and Moz understands what he's been feeling all day.

He likes Johnny. A lot.  

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So basically I am going to introduce a new setting here and I don't know a single thing about it at all so I'm going to make it as nondescript as possible. You'll see what I mean. Please forgive me for that. Also it's a bit of a far-fetched situation but I mean... you're currently reading the indulgent fantasy of a 17 year old girl. Suspension of disbelief is in order.

In March, Morrissey finds that he's happier than he's been in a very long time. The band is absolutely wonderful, offers a chance for him to finally use his writing and singing talents. And he has a very good feeling about the whole situation; deep in his gut, he just _knows_ , knows that The Smiths are gonna go far. Cause he's already been on the television, they've played gigs, they've even developed a sort of iconic look, and girls follow them from show to show, bouquets of gladioli in hand, Not to mention, he gets to spend more time than ever with Johnny.

Really, though, if he thinks about it, that's kind of bitter-sweet. He's fully come to terms with his attraction to Johnny – both emotionally and physically- and it feels great to care about someone. He's never felt so giddy all the time, butterflies building in his stomach every time he is with the guitarist.. But Johnny is horribly out of reach. Not only is Morrissey awkward and leery about relationships, but there is the added element of not knowing if Johnny is attracted to men or interested in him at all. Obviously, Johnny is no homophobe, as he'd never agree to being in a fictitious relationship with Moz if that were the case, but a fake relationship is no indication of whether or not Johnny wants to be with a man.

But Morrissey got a taste. He got a taste of what it'd be like to be with Johnny, what it'd be like to hold his hand and introduce him to the family. And now that he knows what that's like, he longs to experience it again, for real this time. That's out of the question, of course; he _knows_ that, but it doesn't stop the yearning within him.

Regardless, pining after Johnny is better than being depressed and alone, unable to express himself. Finally, someone understands him, accepts him for who he is, backs him even when he's being irrational. That's a fantastic feeling.

He hasn't spoken to his mother in quite some time, though, so on a lazy Saturday afternoon he decides to remedy that, dialing her number and lounging in his favorite chair.

“Hello, Steven. How are you, love.”

“I'm great. How are you?”

The two talk about a number of things, before the inevitable happens. “So,” she begins, Moz detecting a slight cheekiness in her tone. “Are you still with Johnny? He really is a nice boy.”

And Moz knows he should say no, that they broke up. But it's so tempting, to just keep this act going, to pretend that he _is_ with Johnny. “Yes, mum. I am.”

“Oh, Steven! I'm so happy to hear that. You are just perfect together.” Moz makes a noncommittal noise in response, not really sure where to go from here. “That reminds me. At the end of the month, you know your cousin is getting married in Ireland. Remember, we're staying at the hotel for a few days? Well, I just thought; you can bring Johnny along! It will be nice to have some of the rest of the family meet him.”

And somehow, for the second time in his life, Morrissey agrees to let his fake-boyfriend meet his mother. He really has _got_ to stop doing this, he muses to himself.

The minute he has said goodbye to his mother, he's got Johnny on the phone, explaining the situation to him in a rush. He's met with silence on the line, which sends his heart spiraling out of control. This is bad. Very very bad.

Finally, _finally_ , Johnny breaks the silence with an awkward question, “Will going on this trip cost me any money?”

“No, my cousin is taking care of everything.”

“So, you're saying I can go on a free trip, stay in a hotel for a few days, maybe eat some good food, as long as I pretend to be your boyfriend in exchange.”

“I suppose that's one way to look at--”

Johnny cuts him off. “I'll do it.”

 

 

*****break break break******

 

It's 10 PM, and Morrissey runs to his mother in the hotel lobby, wrapping her up in a tight hug. It feels nice to see her again, hug her for the first time in what seems like forever. She seems equally affected, hugging back tightly. When she notices that Johnny has been left standing alone, she runs to him and wraps him up in her arms. Moz heart soars and he needs to remind himself that this isn't real. Nothing Johnny says or does on this trip, in the presence of his family, is real. _Nothing_.

“I'm sure you're both exhausted from the trip here. You can get your room key at that desk over there. I won't bother you for the rest of the night but I expect to see you for brunch tomorrow. Jackie, your Aunt Mary, and I will be meeting at 11:30. I'll see you tomorrow, my love.” Betty places a gentle kiss on Moz's cheek and leaves the two of them, heading to her own hotel room.

They take their bags to the room, and Morrissey stumbles to get the door open. These room keys always cause trouble, but eventually they get in, practically tumbling into the room. And what they see has Johnny's lips parting in surprise.

There's only one bed. A big bed, but only one, nonetheless. Johnny lets out a loud breath and Moz doesn't quite know what to say. The guitarist plops his bags on the floor and sits on the queen-sized mattress, looking up at Moz with a puzzling expression on his face.

“I guess they just figured we'd want to sleep in the same bed.”

Moz nods and blushes. “Well, I'll call and ask for more blankets, and I'll make myself a bed on the floor.”

“You can't sleep on the floor. I'll sleep on the floor.”

“No, Johnny, I'm not going to let you sleep on the floor. Take the bed. I don't mind.”

“Why don't _you_ take the bed?”

“I don't know, why don't you??”

Johnny clucks his tongue, shaking his head. “It's a big bed. Why don't we just share it? I'm so tired; I don't even care at this point.”

Tentatively, Moz agrees, and the pair take turns getting ready in the on-suite bathroom. Eventually, they settle together in bed, as far apart as the mattress will allow. Moz switches out the lamp and tries to force himself to calm down, settle into sleep. He's very comfortable in this bed, soft blue covers gently caressing him. But he can't quiet get to sleep. He listens as Johnny's breaths even out, and after what seems like hours, finally falls asleep himself.

He wakes up warm and awfully comfortable. Suddenly though, he realizes _why_ he's so goddamn warm. Johnny's head is buried in his chest, arms wrapped around Moz's waist. He has an arm splayed across Johnny's shoulder, and their legs are tangled together. He can feel Johnny's heartbeat. And the need to _kiss_ Johnny is overpowering in this moment. Moz just wants to know how it would feel to press his lips against Johnny's, at least for a moment.

When Johnny wakes up, it's all awkward silence from the pair, both men unable to discuss the position they woke up in. They dress quickly, it being 11 AM already, and head down to the hotel restaurant for brunch.

Morrissey nearly cries when he sees his Aunt Mary, the reunion making him feel happier than he can express. They all settle down together at an isolated table to eat, and Moz watches in quiet fascination as Johnny immediately grabs his hand and engages his family in conversation.

Johnny is wonderful with his family, that much is sure. He charms the most important women in Moz's life with ease, telling funny anecdotes about the band, talking about how he and Moz met, expressing his reason for playing the guitar. He asks questions, listens respectively as he receives answers, and sends small smiles Moz's way every so often.

Morrissey begins to tear up, which doesn't go unnoticed by anyone at the table. Johnny turns to him, face full of concern, and asks rather quietly, “Baby, is everything alright?”

And it's something about that term of endearment that sets Moz off. No, he is certainly _not_ Johnny's baby; he's painfully aware of that fact. He quickly excuses himself from the table and practically runs back to the hotel room, where he immediately collapses onto the bed in tears. He feels idiotic, crying like this, but he can't help it. All of this just reminds him that he can't have Johnny.

The black-haired boy enters the room about 30 minutes later. Luckily enough, Moz's tears have ceased, but he's sure it's obvious that he was crying.

“I wanted to give you your space for a bit. But, if you wanna talk about what just happened, I'm all ears.”

Morrissey sighs and nods, wiping his eyes. “It was nothing, really. I can't explain it.”

“Do you think,” Johnny begins, lighting a cigarette and taking a slow drag. “Do you think you feel guilty about this? Lying to your mum and all.”

And really, it's easier to agree than try to express how he actually feels. So Moz just says yes, it's all because of guilt.

He can't even begin to explain to Johnny how he feels.  


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morrissey and Johnny continue the charade on their trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay my mind is just. No right now. Literally everything inside of me isn't ready to write this at all but I figured I would just push through it. Okay. Here we go.  
> (Also I'm listening to the Feb 4th Haçienda gig and sobbing and Hand in Glove just started perhaps its a good omen).

Moz wakes up with his arms wrapped around Johnny. Again. They've somehow begun spooning in the night, with Moz behind Johnny, thin arms lightly slung across Johnny's small waist. Moz's head is close to Johnny's neck, and he wonders how Johnny hasn't been tickled into awareness by Morrissey's breath on his neck. Moz doesn't want to move. Is that horribly selfish of him? He doesn't want to wake Johnny up, feels reluctant to let this moment end. He's startled by how perfect they fit together, how wonderful it is to be interlocked with Johnny's body. This is intimate, and terrifying, and it makes Moz's heart pound in his chest. God, he's got it bad for Johnny. That much is clear.

Johnny lets out a small whimper and turns to face Moz, tangling his bare legs in Moz's. God. Morrissey knows that Johnny's fast asleep, and that probably just loves cuddling regardless of who is in bed with him. But he can't help hope that this means something. He can't help wish that they were actually romantically involved, not this fake relationship trick that they were playing on everyone. Because if it feels this good to be in a _fake_ relationship with Johnny, how could it feel to be in a real one? He doesn't want to think about it. 

He takes this time now, laying there in the warmth of their bed, morning light streaming in through their window, to just look at Johnny. His hair is a mess, and the light keeps catching the random streaks of blonde in it. His eyes are closed, thin eyelashes fanning out on almost-strangely high cheekbones. His thin lips are parted, small sleeping breaths audible. Moz's heart hurts in his chest. Johnny is not at all conventionally handsome, but there's an allure to him, a charm and innocent beauty that Moz can't help but appreciate more than he can even admit to himself.

The boy in question begins to stir, waking up slowly. Moz doesn't move his gaze away from his face. When Johnny is fully awake a blush colors his cheeks, and he whispers a husky, “Good morning.”

Neither of them move, still tangled up in each other. It's odd.

“Good morning.”

Johnny's expression is unreadable. He seems to be deep in thought, considering something. His gaze doesn't leave Morrissey's, golden brown eyes meeting his for what seems like an eternity.

Finally, though, the need to use the bathroom becomes too great, so Moz breaks their eye-contact and stumbles out of bed. When he returns, Johnny is sitting up, looking through the VHS tapes provided by the hotel room.

“Moz, what time is dinner tonight?”

Morrissey thinks back, trying to remember the time. “I think my mother said 6:30.”

Johnny nods and continues to look. “We've got a bit of time to kill then. I was thinking of ordering room service and staying in to watch some movies, but it looks like all they have is a bunch of old stuff.”

“Old stuff?”

“You know,” Johnny says as he reaches for a tape. “Old stuff. Like, movies from the 50s.”

Morrissey smiles. “Do they have any James Dean films? I've been meaning to make you sit down and watch them.”

Johnny smiles back and looks. “Yeah, they have  _Rebel Without a Cause_ ,  _Giant_ , and  _East of Eden._ ”

“Well, that's all of them.”

Johnny raises an eyebrow and grabs the tapes. “Only three?”

“Only three. That's all James ever made.”

Johnny hums and puts in  _Rebel Without a Cause_ before sitting beside Moz on their shared bed. They watch the movie in comfortable silence, and, somehow, Johnny ends up lounging with his head in Moz's lap. Morrissey's long fingers curl themselves in Johnny's hair. 

They watch all three movies in succession, Johnny always returning his head to Moz's lap. Really, it doesn't make any sense. They are best friends, yes, but they've never been this touchy-feely before. Morrissey tells himself none of this means anything. Johnny must be just carried away by the fake relationship thing. That's all this possibly can be. 

Before he knows it, it's time for the pair to get changed and meet Morrissey's mother for dinner. Moz feels like its altogether too soon, that he didn't get nearly enough time to spend with Johnny, with his head in his lap. The minute they stop cuddling Moz feels empty inside, and that's when it clicks just how deep into this whole thing he is. Perhaps he should end it now, pretend to break up with Johnny at dinner. Or maybe... maybe he should just milk this. Ride this thing out for as long as he possibly can, as long as it will last. As Johnny takes a shower, singing his harmony to 'The Hand that Rocks the Cradle' as he washes up, Morrissey thinks about the situation in front of him. He could do the reasonable thing, stop this before he gets a little too close, crosses a line. 

Or, he can enjoy it. 

He decides that he's going with the latter of the two. 

So when Johnny calls him into the bathroom after his shower, asks Moz to style his hair into a quiff, Morrissey smiles and agrees to do it. He does it and  _enjoys_ it, enjoys running his fingers in Johnny's hair as Johnny hums softly and leans against the counter. Ever so often, Johnny's breath fans out on Moz's face, making his pulse thrum a little louder in his ears. He enjoys asking Johnny what shirt he should wear as Johnny shaves and applies black eyeliner, enjoys walking hand-in-hand with Johnny to the restaurant down the street. He chooses not to acknowledge the fact that holding hands isn't really necessary when no one else is around. 

When he sees his mother, Morrissey wraps her in a warm hug, and is incredibly pleased when Johnny does the same. It's just the three of them tonight, and Morrissey murmurs, “Dinner with my two favorite people.” Maybe it's wistful thinking, but Johnny seems to smile a little wider, like he heard Moz's comment. 

Throughout their conversation before waiter arrives, Johnny sends Morrissey little smiles, their hands firmly clasped and resting on the table. Betty tries not to make it obvious how much the whole thing excites her, but her happiness is thinly veiled and, not for the first time, Morrissey feels a twinge of guilt at tricking her like this. She has really come to love Johnny, nearly accepting him into the family. Moz knows she'll be crushed once he and Johnny “break up”.

The minute the waiter comes Johnny orders a bottle of wine, which he quickly tucks into, downing the stuff in large gulps. Moz thinks to stop him from doing that, but once Johnny is a little tipsy his hand settles on Morrissey's thigh, inching ever-so-slightly toward his crotch, and, really, who is Morrissey to stop Johnny's fun? He won't be the one to put an end to it, as long as Johnny's hand keeps gently kneading the flesh of his upper thigh. He's powerless to stop that. He really hopes that Johnny doesn't notice the growing bulge in his pants, and he fleetingly thinks about the ways that Johnny can fix his problem when they get back to the hotel room. 

That puts his thoughts to a screeching halt and once again he reminds himself that this isn't  _real_ . It's the alcohol that's making Johnny do this, not some sort of attraction or desire for Moz. He has to keep telling himself that over and over throughout dinner, when Johnny's hand doesn't move from its spot on his thigh. 

When they get back to their hotel room, after walking back with Morrissey's arm lightly slung around Johnny's waist (to steady him in his slight drunkenness, of course), Moz stumbles to switch on the light. Johnny grabs his wrist to stop him, and Moz can dimly see Johnny's face in the moonlight streaming in through their blinds. There's an expression that Moz can't quite place on Johnny's face and, oh God, did Johnny just glance down at Morrissey's lips? Moz's lips part on their own and Johnny's do the same. He can hear their breaths in the silence of the room, can hear his own heart beat thrumming steadily, albeit quickly in his ears. Johnny's leaning in, getting closer. 

Oh, Johnny's going to  _kiss him_ . That's all Moz can think, the thought racing in his head. He closes his blue eyes and leans in too, preparing himself for a kiss. 

A kiss that doesn't come, of course. 

Because Johnny is running to the bathroom to throw up. Moz sighs and gets Johnny a glass of water from the sink, gently rubbing his back as he pukes in the toilet. He makes Johnny drink the entire glass before leaving him to change into his pajamas, doing the same near their bed. 

Once changed, the two settle in, and Johnny is out like a light. Moz stares at the ceiling, thinking about their almost-kiss. It's hard to believe that Johnny was actually going to kiss him. So many lines have been crossed on this trip, Morrissey doesn't quite know where the pair stand. But it's easier to assume Johnny feels nothing. That's the most logical thing, really. It wouldn't make any sense if Johnny cared about him, too. 

So Morrissey decides that, no, they were not going to kiss. That was all in his imagination. 

And he resolves to get over Johnny. And fast. 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moz and Johnny attend the wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this sucks i'm sorry

Morrissey wakes up in a similar position to the nights before. He's cuddled up to Johnny, warm and comfortable, with his head resting in Johnny's chest. He lets out a sigh, closing his eyes and burying himself further into Johnny's embrace. He wonders, then, why they keep waking up like this, why this keeps happening. He also wonders, and this is the far more perplexing thought, why neither of them has said anything about this. It's no secret between them; they are both very much aware of the positions they wake up in. But neither of them has chosen to acknowledge it, neither of them have brought it up, neither of them have broken out of their embrace in embarrassment.

In fact, with each morning, they linger a little longer, stay in each other's arms despite being awake, and Morrissey doesn't want to address the implications of that. He understand why _he_ doesn't want to let go of Johnny, but why does Johnny want to stay holding onto Moz? He wills himself not to hope for the best, not to think about it too much.

But now, he can feel Johnny's heart beat steadily in his chest, can feel Johnny's even, deep breaths. He's still asleep, that much is clear, and Morrissey refuses to move until Johnny wakes up on his own. He suddenly remembers last night, how sick Johnny was before he went to bed.

How they almost  _kissed._

There's no doubting now that it happened. He can try to push it away as much as he can, but Johnny was undoubtedly going to kiss him. But, he tells himself, that must have been because of the booze, not because Johnny actually wanted to. 

His thoughts go in circles. Over and over he asserts the same damn things to himself, telling himself that, no, Johnny is not interested. He can't be.

Moz is reluctant to move and wake Johnny up. So he stays in bed, for hours upon hours, wide awake as Johnny sleeps peacefully. By the time he finally bothers to look at the bedside clock, he is shocked to see that it is 2 in the afternoon, and they have to be dressed and ready for the wedding by 4. He gently extracts himself from Johnny's arms, which jostles the younger man out of his sleep.

“What time is it?” he questions groggily, rubbing his eyes. When Morrissey tells him he sits up quickly, surprised. “Why'd you let me sleep that long?”

“You were tired. You needed it.”

Johnny gives Moz a small smile, almost shy. Moz can feel himself smiling back, unable to stop the grin spreading on his face. “I guess we ought to get dressed then.”

The two get ready in comfortable silence, Johnny going to the bathroom to put on his tux and Moz doing so quickly in their room. When Johnny is finished, thankfully after Moz has already put on his black tux, with matching silk bow tie and vest in blue, he emerges from the bathroom. His tuxedo is a deep blue, with a silver vest and slim tie, fitted perfectly to his small frame. Moz's breath catches in his throat as he looks at Johnny, who is devilishly handsome in his formal wear. 

“You look great, Moz,” Johnny compliments with a smile. Moz feels his cheeks get hot.

“You, too,” Moz responds, looking at the floor. “But we don't match.”

Johnny quirks and eyebrow and looks at Moz's blue bow tie. “Why don't we just switch ties? You wear my silver one and I wear your blue. That way it looks like we bothered to match.”

Quickly they make the change, and Moz is pleased to see that their outfits look just as good like this as before they changed their ties. They shuffle into the bathroom, taking turns brushing their teeth and helping each other with their hair. When Morrissey looks into the mirror and sees that his eyes are slightly red, he decides not to wear contacts, opting instead for his thick-framed glasses. Johnny sprays on a bit of cologne, a musky, masculine scent that has Moz's stomach tightening. 

They finally finish, and make their way out of the room. In the hotel lobby, Morrissey catches a glimpse of them in the reflection of a glass-covered wall, pleasantly surprised to see how  _nice_ they look together. He hadn't considered before that they might actually make a good fit together, but he can see now that, at least visually, they look like a perfect couple. The idea makes him smile a little wider.

The wedding itself takes place at a large Catholic Church, an extravagant service that Moz largely ignores, except for the vows. Although his opinions on marriage aren't very positive, he does recognize that some people are well-suited for a union, so he claps along with everyone else when his cousin is officially married. Johnny applauds alongside him. If Moz didn't know any better, he'd say that the smile on Johnny's face is almost... wistful. Longing, perhaps.

The reception occurs at an Irish castle-turned-venue, a beautiful spot that Moz instantly takes a liking to. He and Johnny find their table, where his mother, aunts, and sister are already seated. Johnny slings an arm around the back of Moz's chair, fingers ghosting along Moz's shoulder and upper arm. Moz turns and smiles at Johnny. 

If they were actually together, Morrissey would lean forward and steal a kiss, a quick peck in the presence of his family. But they are not together, and this is all fake, and as soon as they go back to Manchester, all of this will stop. Moz has to get used to the idea.

Food is served, and so are drinks, but Johnny, surprisingly, goes easy on his drinking, slowly sipping on a glass of red wine but limiting his intake. Morrissey almost feels disappointed.

The band is... interesting. They cover a range of songs, and they are good in a modest way. Most of the wedding guests are up and dancing, including all of Morrissey's aunts and his sister. The guitar playing is a bit sloppy for Moz's taste, but they aren't horrific. Until, of course, they begin to play an extremely  _interesting_ cover of Hand in Glove, obviously having heard it at a gig of theirs. 

Moz and Johnny begin to laugh obnoxiously, because the guitar is all off and the singer keeps singing, “It's my shame” instead of “Kiss my shades.” Some of the still-seated guests send Johnny and Moz strange looks as their laughter gets louder, obviously not aware that they did, in fact, write the song currently being butchered.

“I hope we don't sound like that,” Johnny gasps out between laughs, wiping tears from his ears.

“It would explain why Mike always comes to practice high.”

Their laughter finally calms down as the song ends, and Johnny grabs Moz's hand, smiling and looking into Moz's eyes. Moz's heart pounds in his chest, and, once again, the need to  _kiss_ overwhelms him. The band begins to play a soft, slow song, one that neither Moz nor Johnny recognize.

“Why don't you two go dance?” Betty asks, a sweet smile on her face. Moz pales and Johnny rubs a reassuring thumb on the back of his hand. 

“Sure, cmon baby. Let's go dance,” Johnny says, standing up and leading Moz to the dance floor. Because Betty is watching them like a hawk, they can't fake this, and Johnny wraps his arms around Moz's neck. Moz encircles his arms around Johnny's slim waist tightly, and they sway to the music. 

Somehow, they lock eyes, and Moz feels his heart racing in his chest. Johnny licks his bottom lip, letting out a shaky breath of air. “Don't...” he begins to say, the word choked out. He clears his throat. “Don't freak out, Mozza. Promise me you won't freak out on me.”

Morrissey's thick eyebrows furrow. “Wha-?”

He's cut off by the feeling of Johnny's soft lips firmly pressing against his. There's a brief moment of shock before Moz realizes that he is  _kissing_ Johnny, and then he's letting out a whimper and kissing back. He vaguely feels like he's flying as Johnny's small hands cup his face and their lips mould together perfectly. It's a sweet, shy, lingering kiss, and Moz gets lost in it.

But then the song changes, to a loud, upbeat song that startles Morrissey out of his kissing-induced haze. He pulls away from Johnny like he's been burned, putting about a foot of distance between them. 

“Moz...” Johnny begins, but Morrissey doesn't know what Johnny was going to say, because he  _runs._ He runs as fast as he can out of the venue, runs down the street, deeper into the city that he doesn't quite know how to navigate. Eventually, once he's deemed himself far enough away, he settles into a walk, and finds a small bar open. With the little money he has he orders himself a sherry, nursing the drink well into the night.

As he sits at the counter for hours, he thinks. He thinks about what just happened, what Johnny did. They had kissed, and it was  _real._ Moz has tried to pretend like there is nothing there, tried to use the fake relationship thing as an excuse this entire time. But that kiss felt real. It consumed him, poured gasoline on his nerves and lit a match. It was genuine.

And that is  _terrifying_ . 

Because he has to own up to his feelings. He has to tell Johnny that this entire thing has meant something to him, meant more to him than it has for the younger boy. Now that they've kissed, and it felt like that, there is no way that Moz can keep existing without admitting how he feels. There's no way he can ever be content without getting to kiss Johnny like that all the time. And if Moz finds out that Johnny's feelings don't run as deep as his, or, worse, that Johnny's really just a fantastic actor, then Morrissey will be devastated. Because that kiss meant something, meant more to Moz than anything else has ever meant to him. Kissing is silly, love is silly, or, at least, it always has been. Romance has always been a social construct, a burden, a  _commitment_ for Morrissey. But now he finds himself head-first in the need, the want to be with Johnny. It's scary, and if Moz is rejected by the guitarist he doesn't think he'll ever recover. 

At around 3AM, he is kicked out of the bar, and he treks back to the hotel, hoping that Johnny is fast asleep in their room. When he enters the lobby, he is shocked to see his mother sitting there, still in her elegant purple dress. 

“Steven!” she gasps, standing up and running to Morrissey the minute she notices him enter. “Where have you been?”

“I was at a bar, mum. I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye. I hope I didn't make you too nervous.”

“It isn't me you owe an apology to,” she says, shaking her head. “Johnny has been worried sick. That poor boy loves you more than life, and you didn't tell him where you were going. I saw the whole exchange, Steven. One second you were sharing a beautiful kiss, and the next you were bolting. Now, do you mind explaining to me what exactly happened back there?”

Moz bottom lip quivers and tears prickle at his blue eyes. “Mum, Johnny doesn't love me more than life... He isn't even... We aren't together.”

“What?”

“It was all... It was all pretend. I was sick of disappointing you, so Johnny agreed to pretend to be my boyfriend. We aren't actually dating. But I... Mum. I love him. I love him so much, and I don't know what to do.”

At this point, Morrissey has begun crying, tears streaming down his cheeks. Betty wraps him up in her arms, rocking him back and forth, which only makes him cry harder, “Oh, love... You know you don't ever have to worry about disappointing me.”

“I know but-” 

“Shh. It's alright, you don't have to explain. But Steven,” she pulls away from the embrace to look deeply into her son's eyes. Moz tries to stop his tears. “Johnny does care about you. I can see it in the way he looks at you. It isn't pretend.”

Morrissey nods and looks down, wiping his eyes. “I'm going to go upstairs, so Johnny can stop worrying.”

“Alright, my love. But remember what I said.”

Moz makes his way to the room, opening the door as quietly as he can. Johnny is seated in their bed, in his pajamas and wide awake. He startles at sound of Moz entering. 

“Moz, where were you? I'm sorry that I-”

“It's okay, Johnny. I'm sorry for running out like that. I just needed to think.”

Johnny nods and looks down in his lap, mouth opening like he is going to say something, but then closing again. Morrissey has a whole gamut of things he'd like to say, but he doesn't know where to begin. “I'm going to sleep. I just... We'll talk tomorrow.”

Johnny nods in agreement and lays down, turning on his side, facing away from Moz's side of the bed. Moz changes and lays down, as far away from Johnny as the bed will allow. Johnny settles into sleep slowly, but Moz stares at the ceiling, wide awake. 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They continue to be complete idiots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm deviating a bit from my original plan because I just feel like... I don't know. I don't know how I feel right now, because this story is drawing to a close. This is the second to last chapter of The Most Inept.   
>  Thank you for staying with me.

Morrissey wakes up slowly, coming into consciousness little by little. And once he's awake enough, the very first thing he notices that he isn't holding Johnny in his arms. And he isn't being held in Johnny's, either. In fact, Johnny is still at the exact opposite side of the bed, as far as it will allow, and, somehow, a pillow became wedged in the space between them during the night. Moz rolls onto his back and looks up at the ceiling, sighing. He will have to speak soon, attempt to communicate his feelings to Johnny without sounding like a complete fool. He doesn't know how to do this, doesn't know how to approach this kind of issue. Never before has he loved anyone like he loves the sleeping boy lying just a foot away from him. Never before has a kiss affected him so strongly.

He marvels slightly at his own reaction to the kiss. Of course, he's always had a bit of a dramatic side, but even he is a bit surprised at his actions last night. Storming off like that, running for the hills, running away from the thing he's been dying for the past couple of months... It's far past his usual level of melodrama. 

Moz rubs his eyes and slides of out bed, carefully and quietly making his way to the bathroom so as not to wake Johnny. He stares at himself in the mirror for a long while, inspecting his face. He doesn't look any different. His face looks the same as he's viewed it on every morning of his short life, but he certainly  _ feels _ different. He can't quite reason with himself as to what he's feeling, but whatever it is, it's crippling and he can't express it with words. That's what scares him the most about all of this; what he feels for Johnny is completely ineffable. Usually, words come so easily to him, never fail him. All he has in this world are words... But now, they seem almost completely useless. He just doesn't know what to say.

For that reason, he finds himself dressing up in whatever clothes he grabs first and writing a quick note in his messy scrawl:

_ Johnny,  _

_ I went for a walk. Don't know when I will be back, but I didn't want to worry you. Once again, I apologize for last night. It was immature of me to run like that, but I didn't know what to say. I still don't know what to say to you... Well, I told my mother about everything. I guess the show is over. _

_ I hope you'll forgive me, and soon.  _

_ Ever,  _

_ MORRISSEY _

Once he gets out of the hotel, he wanders aimlessly before setting his eyes on a telephone booth. God, if only there was someone he could talk to about this. Of course, his mother is always open to speak to him, and now that she knows about his predicament he supposes that she might have some advice to offer. And last night, when he broke down in the hotel lobby, he remembers her telling him that she can tell Johnny cares about him. 

But his mum doesn't really know Johnny, at least not intimately. He needs to speak to someone who understands Johnny beyond the surface, someone who has been uninvolved with this whole situation, someone who Johnny confides in on a regular basis....

_ Andy. _

Obviously, the solution here is to talk to Andy. Andy is Johnny's best friend, has been his mate for God knows how long. He'll know what to do, and if he doesn't, then at least Moz will probably get a laugh out of their conversation. Andy has a funny way of making Morrissey smile, even when he isn't really inclined to. 

He's punching Andy's home phone into the telephone, holding up the receiver to his ear. He waits and waits and  _ waits _ , for what seems like forever, and finally, on the 107 th ring or so, Morrissey gets the answering machine.

“Hello, Andy. It's Moz. I don't know if you're home, but if you are, please pick up the phone. I don't know how much Johnny has told you about our little trip, but I'll be frank- he's been pretending to be my boyfriend all this time. But he's behaved rather strangely in these past few days, and I thought: who better to talk to about Johnny than you? Alright, well, I'll get going, I suppose. You can't call me back because I'm on a payphone, but-”

Suddenly, Moz's rant is cut off as Andy answers the phone. He speaks somewhat huskily, out of breath. “Moz, what is it?”

“I'm sorry, is this a bad time?”

“Yeah,” Andy's breath hitches. “Yeah, it kind of is.”

Morrissey furrows his brow as Andy finishes speaking. Was that... was that a whimper he just heard? “Andy, are you alright?”

“Yes, fine, never better,” another hitch of breath. “What's wrong with Johnny?”

“Nothing, he just... he kissed me. Last night.”

“Oh,  _ god, there _ ,” Andy clears his throat and gasps out. “He kissed you?”

“Andy, what the hell is going on?”

There's rustling and murmuring over the line, and suddenly a new voice sounds in Moz's ears. “Sorry, Mozza.” It's obvious now who is talking, as the voice is unmistakably Mike. “Andy's rather pre _ occupied _ ,” Moz hears, again, what sounds like a whimper, “at the moment. Call back in 2 hours.”

With that, the line goes dead, and Moz stands in shock. What the hell was that? Why didn't they answer the phone earlier, why did they snub him, why were their voices so strange, and what was with those whimpers?

_ Oh. _ The answers dawns on Morrissey suddenly and he feels his cheeks flush. God, he called Andy in the midst of him having sex, sex with  _ Mike. _ How strange, he thinks. Of all the people to get together, Andy and Mike were at the bottom of Moz's 'most likely to' list. Moz has always viewed Andy and Mike as hyper-masculine, epitomes of heterosexuality, what with their constant picking up of girls. But Moz supposes that he should know, more than anyone else, that sexuality isn't so simple... And, apparently, Andy and Mike are interested in each other. It works, really. It makes Moz somewhat giddy.

Because if Andy and Mike can get together, confess their feelings for one another, then why can't Moz and Johnny? Clearly, Johnny harbors some feelings, or attraction, at least, and isn't standing around like this just a waste of Morrissey's time? So what, he might get rejected by Johnny. But isn't rejection just as bad as sitting around and waiting, feeling useless because he can't look his best friend in the face without thinking about kissing him?

And what if Johnny reciprocates? What if Johnny feels exactly the same way, and then Moz will be free to kiss him whenever he so desires? 

He's running back to the hotel, a slight skip in his step.

And in the hallway to his room, he bumps right into Johnny, who stumbles and almost loses his balance. Moz reaches out and grabs the sides of Johnny's arms to steady him.

“Sorry, sorry,” he scrambles, pulling away. “It's just, I have to talk to you-”

“No, I'm sorry. I read your note and... well. I don't know what to say either.”

It's at this point that Morrissey notices that Johnny is holding his luggage, is wearing his coat. “Johnny, where are you going?”

“The show is over, right? That's what you said. I know we're supposed to be here for 2 more days, but I'm not really needed here anymore. So I booked a flight back home and it leaves in... 30 minutes. I'll see you next week.” Johnny turns and begins to walk away, and Morrissey feels dread settling in his gut. If he doesn't say something now, when will he ever? 

“Johnny, wait.” The boy spins around, turning to face him, brown eyes slightly widened and lips parted. “Why did you kiss me?”

“What?”

“Why did you kiss me? As soon as you tell me, honestly, why you kissed me, I will let you go.”

A nervous smile spreads out on Johnny's face, and he breaks eye-contact with Moz. Morrissey's stomach is in his throat. 

“Because I wanted to.”

The air escapes Moz in a rush and suddenly he's got tunnel vision. All he sees is Johnny, this wonderful man standing in front of him. This wonderful man who treats him kindly and patiently and  _ understands  _ him. This wonderful man who saved Moz when he was drowning, but gladly hung onto Moz for dear life in turn. Johnny, with his sly grin and off-hand comments, Johnny who puts out his cigarette when Moz complains about his smoking habit, Johnny who takes each day in stride and doesn't let anything work him up. Johnny who uses his extraordinary talent with dexterity and  _ humility _ , letting the music speak for itself. Johnny who balances Morrissey out in every way, a perfect fit. Johnny who kissed Morrissey, because he  _ wanted  _ to.

Morrissey is walking to Johnny in three long strides, and then he's grabbing Johnny by the waist and bringing their lips together in a passionate kiss. There's a brief moment when Johnny doesn't kiss back, and Moz feels nerves slip in through his rush of adrenaline, but then Johnny is dropping his bags unceremoniously on the floor and throwing his arms around Moz's shoulders, standing on his tip toes and kissing back in earnest. Moz smiles through the kiss and brings one hand to his face, stroking Johnny's cheek gently as he pours everything he's felt in the past months into this kiss. It's unbelievably nicer than their first kiss, because now they are both sure of this, sure that this is where they want to be. They kiss for what feels like forever, and when Johnny boldly slips tongue into the exchange, Morrissey feels a shudder running down his back. His cock begins to tighten in his jeans, and he feels light-headed. 

Finally, the need to breathe overcomes them and they pull away, grasping for air. 

“Cmon,” Johnny says, bright smile spreading on his face and grabbing Moz's hand. “Let's go to bed.”

“But, Johnny, it's only...” Johnny raises an eyebrow. “Oh.  _ Oh. _ ” 

“Only if you want to,” Johnny says, suddenly becoming shy. Morrissey is blushing now, avoiding eye-contact.

“Oh, I want to.”

“Okay, well,” Johnny clears his throat and picks up his bags. “Let's go. We'll... we'll figure this out together.”

Morrissey feels giddy and horny and maybe even head-over-heels in love, so he follows Johnny into their room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued... Next chapter is the last. Bet you already know what it's about (-;   
> God this is so cheesy I h8 myself


	7. Chapter 7- The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is. The final chapter of The Most Inept. Thank you, everyone, for reading.

Johnny and Moz break their kiss so Johnny can open the door to their hotel room. The minute the door is opened, they fall back into their early position, lips moving together and hands grabbing at each other as they stumble into their room. Morrissey feels vaguely like he's intoxicated, hands shaking and head spinning as his tongue brushes against Johnny's with every kiss. Johnny pulls away and begins to press demanding kisses down Moz's jaw and neck, nipping at the skin over Moz's collarbone. It has him letting out a pitchy whine, clutching at Johnny's hips desperately. But then a thought occurs to him, which has him blushing feverishly.

“Johnny, I,” Johnny begins sucking on the skin of Moz's neck, no doubt making a mark. Morrissey's speech is cut off by a quiet moan at Johnny's actions. “Johnny,  _ wait. _ ”

Johnny pulls away and looks up, pupils blown wide and a flush on his cheeks. The sight makes Moz even harder, somehow, but he tries not to get distracted. “Johnny, I didn't... I didn't take a shower today and I...” Moz looks away, embarrassed beyond belief. Finally, he has Johnny, doing filthy things to him, and his mind ruins it for him by reminding him that he hasn't showered since yesterday morning. Johnny, wonderful Johnny, just smiles and presses a gentle kiss to Moz's lips.

“Okay, we'll take a bath then. And we can talk and then we'll continue... this.”

Morrissey smiles and agrees, following Johnny into their bathroom.

 

Johnny takes off his sweater without any hesitation, followed by his shoes and socks. Finally, his hands go to his belt, and he pulls down his jeans and pants in one swift, unabashed motion. Morrissey stares at his face, unwilling to look down, view Johnny's body in its entirety, view his...

“Moz,” Johnny says, gently. “You can look. I want you to look. I want you to see what you do to me.”

Hesitantly, Moz lets his gaze drift down, over the soft plains of Johnny's thin chest, down his flat stomach, to his cock, hard and pointing upward toward his belly button. It's not particularly wide, but it is  _ long _ , surprisingly so, what with Johnny's tiny frame. It's beautiful, just like the rest of him, and it has a strange mixture of lust and affection settling in Moz's gut. Moz lets out a shaky breath and returns his eyes to Johnny's face, on which he detects a hint of nervousness. Is Johnny  _ afraid? _

Moz walks over to Johnny and presses a gentle kiss on his lips, before turning on the bath water and divesting himself of his own clothing. The shirt is the easy part, as Johnny's seen him shirtless a number of times. In fact, anyone who has ever come to any of their gigs has most likely seen him without his top, which makes this okay. But Morrissey's long fingers shake as he undoes his belt, tremble as he slips off his shoes and pulls down his trousers. Johnny looks reassuringly into Moz's eyes, and suddenly he isn't afraid of this anymore. This is  _ Johnny _ , and he trusts him, more than he trusts any other person. So he pulls down his underwear, lets it pool on the floor, lets Johnny see every inch of him. 

Johnny looks down and gently touches Moz's face. “God, you're so  _ beautiful,”  _

And Morrissey feels beautiful, somehow. Somehow he doesn't feel like a completely unwanted, unattractive, unloved person in this moment. He feels quite the opposite. 

The two squeeze into the warm bath together, taking turns washing each other's hair and backs. Once they are clean, they sit face-to-face, holding hands underneath the bath water. 

“Johnny, how do you feel about me. Is this just a... it is just a physical thing?” Morrissey is almost afraid of the answer he's going to get.

“Of course not.” Johnny replies, leaning forward and resting his head on Moz's shoulder. “Why do you think I agreed to be your fake boyfriend? It's because I hoped I could be your  _ real _ boyfriend.”

“Really?”

“Mhm... Before you, I'd never been attracted to a guy before. Thought the only people for me were chicks. But you're so... very quickly it became all about you. I can't stop thinking about you, haven't been able to stop thinking about you. So when you told me you lied about having a boyfriend, I desperately wanted to be that for you... So now you know. And you? What is this to you?”

“Johnny,” Moz says affectionately. His heart is pounding and there is a huge, stupid grin on his face, because now he  _ knows _ . He knows, for sure, that this isn't a one-sided thing. It was never a one-sided thing. They've wasted so much time, and Moz can't imagine wasting anymore. “I didn't know until I saw you hugging my mother on my front porch. And then you held my hand and it felt right and, now that I think about it, it was all a bit silly. But that night I couldn't stop thinking about all the wonderful things about you and I've wanted to be with you ever since.” 

Johnny looks up, and are those tears in his eyes? Moz's heart feels like it's expanding, growing larger, somehow, in order to make room for all the love he feels toward this boy in front of him. They crash into a kiss, feverishly grabbing at each other and getting as close to each other as the bathtub will allow. Moz's erection has come back with force, and Johnny seems to be in the same place, wrapping his thin arms around Moz's neck tightly. 

“Okay, bed  _ now _ ,” Johnny whispers against Moz's lips, and Morrissey cannot argue with the demand in the slightest. 

 

After drying themselves, they fall onto the bed in a heap, Johnny laying between Moz's spread legs. Morrissey feels like his body is on fire, every nerve ending set alive, and it's an absolutely wonderful, amazing feeling. They have been kissing for God knows how long, Moz's lips are numb, and their erections are brushing against each others, making Moz whimper into the kiss. Johnny pulls away and begins to kiss down Moz's neck again, gently brushing the hickey he gave him earlier. Moz gasps and is suddenly stricken with the need to  _ please _ , so he rolls them over so he is on top of Johnny, who seems almost surprised at the change in position. Moz begins to place close-mouthed kisses down Johnny's neck, past his collar and down his chest, stopping briefly to press his tongue gently over Johnny's nipple. The black-haired boy lets out a quiet gasp, threading his fingers in Moz's hair. 

Morrissey doesn't stop there, continuing down Johnny's chest and stomach, finally reaching his dick, hard and red between Johnny's legs. “Forgive me, but I've never done this before...” Moz mutters before leaning down and licking gently at the head of Johnny's cock. Johnny groans above him, whimpering his name like a prayer. It sends jolts of sensation down Moz's spine. Delicately, carefully, he begins to take Johnny's cock into his mouth, sucking and licking. It's odd, and his jaw aches slightly, but Johnny is moaning and clutching at his hair, so Moz doesn't mind being a little uncomfortable. 

Before long, though, Johnny is pulling at Moz's hair, and his cock slips out of Moz's plump lips with a lewd pop. “Baby, I don't wanna come like that... Even though I wouldn't mind it some other time.”

Morrissey shakes his head and laughs, resting his head on Johnny's hip. “How  _ do _ you want to come, Johnny? Say the word and I'll do it.”

“I want to be inside you.” Moz feels the air rush out of him. God, he'd thought about that, considered it as a possibility. But he'd never... He doesn't know what to  _ expect. _ “Have you ever been with another guy?”

“Never,” Moz responds, placing a kiss on Johnny's hip-bone. “Women, yes, but never with a man. I'm almost afraid, Johnny,” Moz admits, sighing. 

“Me, too.” Morrissey looks up, startled. “I don't want to hurt you. I want to make this good for you. Better than anyone else.”

“Johnny, this has already been better than anything else I've done. You can... we can try this. Together.”

“C'mere,” Johnny whispers, pulling Moz up so he can place a loving kiss on his lips. “Go to my bag and grab what's in the outside pouch.” Moz raises an eyebrow but walks over, and Johnny whistles when he bends over to open the bag.

“Oh, hush,” Moz chastizes, blushing. He realizes that Johnny wants him to grab a small packet of lube and a condom, which makes him blush harder, somehow. “Johnny, why did you bring these?” he asks jokingly as he climbs back on the bed.

“Guess I hoped I'd get lucky.. and here I am. Luckiest guy in the world, I think.”

“Oh God, there must be something wrong with me. I found that charming and  _ not _ disgusting. You may have to take me to a doctor. I'm broken.”

“Shut it,” Johnny teases, laughing and pulling Moz to him in a passionate kiss. “Are you ready? We can take this slow.”

“Yeah, but... Johnny? I've never done  _ anything _ like this before, if...”

“Moz, say the word and we'll stop. I promise I won't do anything you don't want, baby. Just be honest with me.”

Morrissey nods his head and watches, somewhat embarrassed, as Johnny coats his fingers in lube. Johnny reaches down and gives his cock one tight stroke, which has him whimpering and trapping his bottom lip in his teeth. 

“No, don't stop your sounds. I want to hear you.” 

Moz nods and takes in a deep breath as Johnny lowers his hand, circling his hole with one finger tip. God, that shouldn't feel so good, that shouldn't make Moz feel so  _ alive _ , but somehow, it does exactly that. Slowly, tortuously slowly, Johnny begins to sink his finger into Moz, which is  _ strange _ . Moz lets out a choked sound, and Johnny looks up at his face, eyes wide.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, but it's odd. I don't know how to describe it but... I can handle more.”

Johnny nods and eases in another finger, crooking them slightly, and he brushes against something that makes Moz cry out. 

“God, did I hurt you?”

“No, do that again, Johnny, oh my  _ God.” _

“What was that?”

“I'll explain,” Moz gasps as Johnny uses his other hand to stroke his dick. “I'll explain later.” 

Johnny nods and crooks his fingers again, and Morrissey feels like he's on fire. He can't stop the cries that are escaping his throat as Johnny's fingers keep brushing against that bundle of nerves inside him. It makes his cock leak precum and,  _ Jesus _ , he's never been so turned on in his entire life. 

“Johnny, please, I want you to...” Morrissey trails off, hoping that Johnny gets the message without him having to actually say the words. Johnny nods, thankfully, and pulls his fingers out, leaving Moz feeling slightly empty and kind of uncomfortable. But Johnny begins to roll a condom on his length, coating it in lube and lining up between Moz's spread legs.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Johnny. I've never been more sure about anything before.”

Slowly, Johnny eases in, thrusting in completely. Moz throws his head back and cries out, and Johnny groans and clutches at Moz's hips. It hurts less than Morrissey anticipated, the slight burn overpowered by the pleasure of it and the joy that fills him as he sees Johnny gasping for air and shutting his eyes tightly. 

“Moz, you feel... Oh my God.”

“Me too, Johnny. Me too.”

Johnny's thighs quiver as he begins to thrust slowly, pulling out and pushing back in in firm, yet gentle strokes that brush against that spot within him. Moz wraps his arms tightly around Johnny's neck, whimpering at the feeling and thrusting his hips up to meet Johnny. 

It goes on like this, soft and slow, for a while, before Moz can't take it anymore, needs  _ more _ from this. “Johnny, you can go faster. I won't break,” he gasps out, burying his face in Johnny's neck as he instantly follows Moz's demands.

Moz is close to the edge, knows that with only a few more thrusts he'll be done. “Johnny, I'm so close.” 

“Me too,” Johnny groans, thrusting desperately. “Cum for me, baby.”

Moz whines and scratches at Johnny's back as he does exactly that, exploding in pleasure without being touched. He might be screaming right now, but, really, he doesn't know. His heart is pounding in his ears and his thighs are shaking and, God, this feels better than anything else he's ever felt. The pleasure ebbs, seems to go on forever and ever, but it's over just in time for him to be aware of Johnny climaxing too, whimpering Moz's name and collapsing on top of him, face buried in his neck. 

They tumble down from their highs together, clutching onto each other for dear life. Their pants are audible in the room as they gasp for air, wait for their heart rates to slow down. Johnny smiles and shakily kisses Moz's lips. 

Perhaps they wasted a lot of time. Perhaps this entire situation is convoluted and strange. Perhaps they won't last forever. But, for the first time in his life, Morrissey doesn't seem to  _ care _ about anything but the body pressed up against his. For the first time, not everything is so damn complicated like he always makes it out to be. Sure, life is serious business, but he's also allowed to enjoy it. He's allowed to give and receive love and he's allowed to be a normal person. That doesn't make him inferior. It doesn't make him weak.

So, perhaps, this won't work out. Perhaps it'll be messy and difficult. But here, with Johnny in his arms, Moz can't imagine that there's an unhappy ending in sight. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope that didn't suck as much as I think it did.  
> anyway, now that this is done, I'm gonna take a little break from fanfiction while I think of an idea for another multi-chaptered fic. I have a few ideas, and whatever it is, I'm pretty positive that it's going to be a Marrissey AU, which is exciting. Be on the look out.  
> Also thank you to everyone who read/left kudos/ and COMMENTED. I can't express how much the comments meant to me throughout this process. Ya'll are awesome.


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